


You bring music to my life

by kagme



Series: Every reality with you [6]
Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adult beginner!Eddy, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, M/M, Music, Teacher!Brett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagme/pseuds/kagme
Summary: Eddy doesn’t know why he’s nervous; the guy was nice enough when they discussed the lessons by message, plus they’re both from Griffith Uni, he’s a student on his fourth and last year at the Queensland Conservatorium, just a year older than him, and his profile picture showed another random looking Asian dude with glasses, nothing to get intimidated by.His body doesn’t seem to get the message though, because he jumps when he hears the knock he was expecting anyway, his hands are already sweaty and his heart is beating in his throat as he opens the door of his apartment for his new teacher.He’s faced with a nice smile that looks vaguely familiar on an even nicer skin, perfect nails and delicate fingers wrapped around the handle of a violin case, a clean white shirt over a pair of jeans, and a presence that does not match the size of the guy. Positive energy seems to be radiating out of him, like tendrils wrapping around Eddy and choking him.And suddenly he’s self conscious about everything.“Hi. Eddy, right? Nice to meet you, I’m Brett.”
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Original Character(s)
Series: Every reality with you [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081190
Comments: 72
Kudos: 192





	1. How they met

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授权翻译】You bring music to my life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26315287) by [Jonnayoly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonnayoly/pseuds/Jonnayoly)



> Here is the short fic I talked about in [MeloMania](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096306/chapters/60795517)’s latest chapter :) I suppose it’s going to be three chapters long, but I’m not absolutely sure. 
> 
> I was a bit tired of making Eddy and Toni break up, so I gave him a different girlfriend for this one!
> 
> I tried for a different narrator style, more Terry Pratchett like toward the second half, I hope you enjoy it :D
> 
> It was inspired by one of TwoSet’s latest video where Eddy mentions Brett is a very supportive teacher and another Twosetter gave me the idea of Brett teaching adult beginner Eddy.
> 
> As usual, thank you Ria for beta reading this at the light of speed!

**  
You bring music to my life**

  
  
  


## How they met

He doesn’t talk about it at first. 

He could have; his sister is a musician, she would have understood. His friends from med school would have teased him a bit but encouraged him. His girlfriend would have wondered how he would find the time to do this, but believed in him. His mother would have frowned, probably, but there was nothing she could do to stop him. 

However, he feels ashamed, somewhat. Afraid they’ll think this is just a new, fleeting obsession, brought by the latest thing he’s watched. He’ll admit, _Your Lie in April_ did influence him a little, maybe giving him the last push, but he’s not rash to the point of buying an instrument - an expensive instrument - _just_ because of an anime.

Eddy Chen isn’t the kind of person to make impulsive decisions; he thinks, rethinks and overthinks every single detail of his life, but as he stares at the purple case in his room, teeth gnawing at the nail of his index finger, he starts doubting himself.

He has no idea how he’s supposed to learn the violin on his own at twenty one, and juggle it with his studies, when his schedule is already so packed he barely has time to have a date once every two weeks with Sarah. He has tested a few apps, but balked out in horror at how badly designed they were, read the whole _Wikihow_ article, binged maybe one too many videos about violin learning and spied on the students from the con in the hopes of picking up some practice techniques. He still feels wholly inefficient, fingers clumsy and too tense when they press strings and hold the bow.

So, after weeks of blindly fumbling with his new instrument, he cracks.

  
  


> **Belle**
> 
> If, hypothetically, a 21 y/o med student wanted  
>  to learn the violin, how should he go about it?
> 
> This hypothetical med student better get a freaking hypothetical teacher before he hypothetically injures himself!
> 
> What if teachers are maybe too expensive for this poor student?
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> The poor student should probably look into conservatorium students trying to make some money. They’re way cheaper than teachers with a degree and can bring you just as much
> 
> Hypothetically
> 
> This poor student thanks you for your wise advice
> 
> Oh, old one :D
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> I’m unhypothetically gonna kill you :D

  
  


*

He doesn’t know why he’s nervous; the guy was nice enough when they discussed the lessons by message, plus they’re both from Griffith Uni, he’s a student on his fourth and last year at the Queensland Conservatorium, just a year older than him, and his profile picture showed another random looking Asian dude with glasses, nothing to get intimidated by. 

His body doesn’t seem to get the message though, because he jumps when he hears the knock he was expecting anyway, his hands are already sweaty and his heart is beating in his throat as he opens the door of his apartment for his new teacher.

He’s faced with a nice smile that looks vaguely familiar on an even nicer skin, perfect nails and delicate fingers wrapped around the handle of a violin case, a clean white shirt over a pair of jeans, and a presence that does not match the size of the guy. Positive energy seems to be radiating out of him, like tendrils wrapping around Eddy and choking him.

And suddenly he’s self conscious about everything.

About how tired he must look, bags under his eyes from late night studying, hair messed up by fingers racking through them too often, nails ugly and bitten down by anxiety-induced gnawing, teeth crooked like old pianos’ keys, spots and scars on his skin from poor eating habits and a bad sleeping schedule.

About how sad the place he’s renting is, so small there’s just enough space for one cramped room and one bathroom, furniture so old they look like they would break if one leaned on them too heavily, stains on the walls from previous occupants, bed a mess with freaking plushies on it, windows too dirty to really let in the sunlight, bookshelf vomiting manuals and his yaoi mangas can probably be seen in the middle of other study books.

About how much his violin playing is going to suck, he’s way too old for this and it is embarrassing, the guy is probably used to teach little kids, and here is a twenty one grown ass man unable to play a scale by himself, his instrument is cheap, even if it cost him most of his savings, and the sound is going to be horrendous because he has no idea how to tune it, he has no natural skill for music and the only reason he has some classical repertoire is because of his sister.

“Hi. Eddy, right? Nice to meet you, I’m Brett.”

“I- Yeah, I know,” he chuckles awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, please come in.”

He tries to fight his shyness and moves away from the door to let this too bright man inside his grey apartment.

“Man, you look even more tired than I feel and that’s saying something. A med student learning violin? I’m so impressed! Props to you.”

“Thank you.”

He knows he’s blushing profusely now, he can feel the heat on his cheeks, but he has always been bad at receiving compliments from people he doesn’t know.

“So, what do you say if you show me what you can do, and then we’ll see from there? If this is your very first time holding a violin, don’t fret, I’ll help you. I'm here for that,” he smiles encouragingly and the tendrils of energy that were choking Eddy seem to take on a warmer hue, caressing and enveloping now. 

His new teacher adjusts his position, replaces his hands, chatting non stop while doing so; tidbits about how bad he was when he started out, funny and embarrassing stories about past and present screw ups, until Eddy’s anxiousness slowly melts away. He doesn’t blink at Eddy’s atrocious attempts at violin playing, laughs with him and by the time the lesson is over and Brett waves - _See you next week! -_ Eddy’s convinced this was the best idea he ever had.

He thinks this is how he met Brett Yang.

*

As a matter of fact, this isn’t.

Brett is always exhausted. That’s a constant by now.

He doesn’t allow himself any slack on his practice schedule, he performs every week at the con’s workshop even if he doesn’t need to, he already plays with an orchestra from time to time, because being in his third year at the con means he needs professional exposure, he doesn’t party as much as in his first year, but still tries to make some time for his friends, and he teaches.

He didn’t expect to like it this much. Teaching. 

He started it for the only reason music students teach: money. But he stayed because he gained an appreciation for it. He wouldn’t say this is his professional call, even if his dreams of being a soloist are no more - thanks to a hard reality check - he still wants to perform. He likes it too much, that thrill.

But he never minds taking on new students, even if it means a few less hours of sleep - so Brett is always exhausted. He’s so used to it by now that he doesn’t even mind, it’s not as if it’s putting a damper on his chaotic energy anyway.

So he’s a bit surprised when he notices someone that looks even more sleep deprived than he is. The guy is from Griffith too, and always hanging around the con, he’s Asian, with some interesting angles to his face, but otherwise plain enough not to be picked apart in a crowd. Sometimes, during lunch break, the student just leans against a wall of the con, the one where the windows from practice rooms are always open, closes his eyes and listens to people play while slowly munching on a sandwich, a cup of coffee dangling from his long fingers. Other times, he just sits there, outside, nose in books thick enough to make Brett shudder in horror, and only glances up when people start practicing outside, but he never seems bothered by it; there’s envy in that look. 

None of this would have attracted Brett’s attention normally, except the guy is a _med student._ And Griffith’s School of Medicine is nowhere near the Queensland Conservatorium, so why would he come all this way just to listen to a bunch of young, unprofessional musicians practice, when his lunch break seems to be the only free time he has all day?

So he’s curious. 

But the guy never talks, Brett’s seen some people try to approach him, and the med student just pretends to be absorbed by his phone or his studies, and answers with monosyllables, a blush steadily climbing on his face. He always seems so annoyed and embarrassed when con students try to talk to him that Brett doesn’t. Decides to leave him be, because he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, despite curiosity and maybe something else tickling the back of his mind.

He doesn’t really remember when he started noticing him, couldn’t pinpoint a moment, that Asian guy has been living in a corner of his mind for months now, but as he starts his fourth and final year at the con, as a honor student, and he sees the guy is still there on his lunch break, closed eyes to better enjoy someone practicing Clair de Lune on the piano from an open window, and Brett’s gaze lingers on the wire framed glasses that weren’t there before, on the hair that is curlier and messier than before, on the dark circles that even summer break didn’t manage to erase, and he starts smiling, he knows he’s more than a little interested. He doesn’t know yet in what way.

Which is why, when he sees on Griffith’s social media that a med student from the year below is looking for a violin teacher, he immediately knows who this is about - _it has to be him -_ and offers to teach without any regards to his already packed schedule.

He’s almost vibrating as he knocks on the door - _Eddy Chen’s door,_ he knows his name now - curiosity seeps from him and he has trouble containing his energy, a grin already etched on his lips.

When the door opens and his new student blinks at him blearily from behind his glasses, messy hair and dark circles marring his face, he’s not surprised not to be met with the same enthusiasm, Brett hasn’t seen this guy in any other state than worn out. Everything about him reeks tiredness, his steps are slow when he goes to his violin case, there are thick volumes and papers and diagrams thrown around, he downs two cups of coffee during the time of their lesson, he yawns around his answers, and he must have glanced at least three times at his bed.

Brett is so amazed by the very existence of this person he almost feels humbled.

Eddy’s obviously shy, embarrassed about his mangas and the penguin plushie on his bed, but fights it and forces himself to open up, to crack up jokes and the effort is endearing.

He didn’t grow up being a musician but his ear is incredible, and there is no doubt that with some practice, the guy can develop perfect pitch.

He has no reasons to learn the violin other than his love for it, and Brett’s own heart jumps in happiness when he sees so much appreciation for the instrument he chose to dedicate his life to.

He looks so busy, busier than Brett even, but his determination to be better at the violin doesn’t falter, even when he learns it will be hours of grueling practice, even when he already looks dead on his feet.

He seems so smart, when he starts getting more at ease - and Brett is doing his utmost to help him relax, to get to know him to satisfy bits of his curiosity - and speaks more freely, nerding out about med stuff Brett doesn’t understand but pretends to listen to.

When he leaves the apartment at the end of it, he can’t stop smiling.

He thinks this is how he met Eddy Chen.

*

As a matter of fact, this isn’t.

It takes them some time to figure it out, a few weeks, just a bit more than a month, but since they are constantly so exhausted around each other, maybe it can be forgiven. 

Laughter comes easy between them, a bit unhinged at times, driven by too much tiredness and raw openness. Brett tries his utmost to put his student at ease, softening his own edges, while Eddy sheds the shell of his shyness bit by bit. He makes progress, and they both feel good about it, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star flowing more smoothly, his tongue out as he focuses his everything on the weight distribution of the bow in his right hand, on the pattern of his left fingers, pressing a string one at a time under the careful guidance of his teacher.

Pride tickles them the same way when he manages a good enough rendition, and their shared grin brightens the room.

They end up giggling like kids sometimes, for no real reason, in the safe space of these lessons, social barriers fallen in the face of their weariness, and they feel like maybe, they have known each other for longer than they think.

They should have anticipated it, really. They were born a year apart, grew up in the same city, study in the same university and both their parents are Taiwanese. 

They still manage to be surprised.

“What was your favorite piece before you started the violin?” Brett asks as he writes down some performance recommendations for Eddy. “Just out of curiosity, like, not being a classical musician, was there ever one that made you go ‘ _that one’s a ten out of ten’_?”

“Aren’t most songs in 4/4?” Eddy quips back without bothering to hide his smile, twinkles in his eyes.

“Oooooh, making nerdy music jokes already!” Brett bursts out laughing. “That’s so good, I’m proud of you man, we’ll make a real musician out of you in no time. Now, you just have to call songs _pieces_ and we’ll be good, a 10/10 Eddy. Or a 4/4 Eddy, doesn’t matter cause they’re both equal zero.”

It’s Eddy’s turn to wheeze.

“One.”

“What?”

“Equals one, not zero. Mate, seriously?” he chokes on laughter.

“Oh sorry one, yeah. Oh shit!” Giggles escape both of them freely now, and this is such a regular occurrence they’re not even surprised the lesson ends with them in stitches. “Shit. See? This is why I had to go to math tutoring when I was a kid.”

“You too? Man, same. I’m not half as bad as you, but my mom still forced me!”

“Really? That’s so funny…”

Laughter dies down as they stare at each other, and realization slowly descends upon them.

Eddy’s mouth is gaping open as Brett’s eyes widen.

“Oh. Fuck. Are you- Did you?”

“Huang Laoshi?”

“Huang Laoshi!”

*

This is how they really met.

On the second row of this math tutoring class, chairs on the left, facing the blackboard, on a Friday evening. This is not surprising, pretty much all the Asians kids of their neighborhood in Brisbane are here, parents trusting the future of their children’s marks to the mathematical guidance of Huang Laoshi.

They sit side by side, not knowing what the other is going to be in their life yet, having no idea how many times their path will cross, by chance or something else, how many time they will pass each other in the street, how many times they will notice the other from the corner of their eyes in uni, how many of their friends actually know each other.

Brett is fourteen, Eddy is thirteen. They chat about normal things, what grade they are in, what they do after school, what class they hate, and which kids are annoying. Brett plays the violin, Eddy’s sister plays the piano, they both come from Taiwan, they have a crappy sense of humor, and they manage to bond over that. Friday evenings become enjoyable, and sometimes during the weekends, Eddy will daydream about Brett playing the violin for him, and Brett will smile as he turns the page of a manga he borrowed from Eddy.

But Eddy is too shy to ask Brett to be his friend, and Brett thinks they already are.

They never get the time to navigate around the fondness they have for each other. Eddy’s good at math, and soon enough, he stops coming.

Brett wants to hit himself, when he sits on the second row, the chair on his right is empty, and he realizes he never asked Eddy a way to contact him, so sure they were going to see a lot of each other.

Eddy groans in despair, when he asks his mother for violin lessons, and is only met with a _“no“_ leaving no place for discussion, because he is supposed to focus on his studies, and he has no time to be distracted by music when his future as a doctor is on the line.

Brett is fourteen when his eyes latch unknowingly to any Asian kid with interesting angles to their face.

Eddy is thirteen when he starts being obsessed with the violin.

This is how they met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the first installment, it’s a slightly different storytelling from what I usually do, please tell me what you think about it, every kudo and/or comment is dearly appreciated!


	2. How they like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a fact that they have been really, really liking each other for some time now, but Brett was too obtuse to have the realization before, and Eddy hasn’t allowed himself to ponder on it. It is hard to hold them responsible though, they are both busy, and feelings are complicated matters, every time someone thinks they get it, it unravels under their fingers. None of this changes the fact that repressed feelings have been going on for a while, and this might explain what follows. It feels very sudden, for the both of them, but if the story of their encounters had been put on paper, anyone reading would have seen it coming from the first smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Here’s the second chapter :) I didn’t really know where I was going when I started this (I literally changed the title, the focus, and the order of my paragraphs five times) but I finally have something I’m kinda satisfied with!
> 
> This is now beta read! Thank you Ria :D

##  How they like

“It’s you! Damn, how did I not see that coming,” Eddy stares at his violin teacher in wonder. “The name, the violin, the glasses, I should have known!”

He probably should have, but his memory has always been noticeably bad for those kinds of things, too busy swallowing anatomy and disease names and symptoms. He is blind too, to the string of fate pulling them together, deprived of the God view of their paths crossing and intertwining.

“No wonder I noticed you, I  _ knew _ there was something about you,” Brett shakes his head, barely aware of the words escaping his mouth. “I can’t believe we were studying in the same freaking uni this whole time.”

“You noticed me… How?”

And Brett realizes he fucked up. Despite his easy going personality and laughter ready to spill out of his lips at any time, he likes to keep some feelings close to his chest, doesn’t appreciate having them prickle his skin, exposed naked to the air. He never even talked to his friends about this slight obsession he had with the med student listening on practice sessions, and didn't plan on sharing this with the subject of said obsession either.

But it is too late now, and he won’t let awkwardness permeate the atmosphere between them, especially not when Eddy is not only a funny and interesting adult beginner, but the boy who sat beside him all those years ago, the first tendrils of giggles and friendship leaving their mark on both of them. 

Brett doesn’t know Eddy won’t mind, will be flattered even, to have been noticed when he has so little confidence, Brett doesn’t know the impact his interest will have on him, the flutter it will spread in his stomach, starting something they won’t be able to stop.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you hanging around the con on your lunch breaks for about a year now. It was strange to see a student reading anatomy books in front of the conservatorium, and maybe part of me remembered your face from math tutoring. I don’t know. I was curious, so,” he shrugs, trying to pass it off as casual. “I wasn’t wrong, there  _ was  _ something special about you.”

He doesn’t know, but he says it anyway, because Brett never really cares about the consequences of his actions.

And Eddy smiles bright and fidgets, not fully believing he’s facing the person that made him want to learn violin, all that time ago, that Brett’s the one  _ teaching  _ him violin, that Brett still even remembers him, noticed him and he feels free to let the adoration he had as thirteen years old spill unchecked again. He swears to himself he won’t let go of him this time around.

*

Brett takes a sip of his bubble tea, staring at Eddy from under his glasses, trying to gather his courage. It has been almost a year since the first lesson now, and he has never been afraid of telling him anything, but there is uneasiness at the bottom of his stomach for the first time, and he can barely swallow the tapioca pearl in his mouth.

Eddy can instinctively sense his struggle, because he stays silent too, they have never been so awkward around each other, and it’s killing him. So he spits it out.

“I got accepted into the Sydney Symphony Orchestra.”

Eddy’s mouth slowly gapes open around his straw.

“Sydney… Is pretty far from Brisbane…” he answers, not bothering to hide the sadness in his eyes.

“I know.”

“I’m- I’m happy for you, though! I really am. It’s a big deal for you to play there! Good for you!” Eddy forces cheerfulness into his voice. “But, huh- I’ll be in my fourth year, I’ll be assigned to a hospital in Brisbane, so I won’t be able to visit you in a while-”

“I can come back though,” Brett interrupts, something squeezing his guts. “I can totally come back to Brisbane every once in a while.”

Both of them look at each other. The sun is burning outside, the insects chirping under the summer heat, and condensation from their bubble teas moistens their fingers. This somehow feels like math tutoring, like heartache and empty seats and no more violin playing. And none of them want a repeat of this. 

They still can’t see fate having fun with the threads of their life, but they don’t really care, they’ll take it into their own hands, making sure their lives stay intertwined, this time around.

“I’ll become so much better at the violin, you won’t believe it when you’ll come back, maybe we’ll even be able to play a duet,” Eddy states with determination.

“Yeah, well you better take care of yourself first, and if it takes me calling you every day to make sure you eat and sleep, I’ll do it,” Brett doesn’t miss a beat in his answer, still not over that time Eddy passed out on him.

They smile at each other, and there’s so much fondness between them, a customer turns her eyes with a grimace of disgust, feeling however very single.

Brett gets lost for a little while in Eddy’s grin, and Eddy feels so much he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

This is when they think they start really, really liking each other.

As a matter of fact, they’re both wrong.

*

This is how it started for Eddy:

He will admit it, he’s a little bit starstruck.

There are a lot of factors to this; he’s wrapped up in Brett’s overwhelming energy, he’s fascinated by how easy it is to talk to him, he’s giddy over how little he’s changed from the fourteen year old with braces, so true to himself, and most of all he’s entranced by his violin playing. 

When he asks Brett what his favorite piece to play is, and the other delivers a rendition of the Hungarian Dance No.5 so fast and clean it leaves his mouth gaping, he has twinkle in his eyes, and his fingers twitch under the desire to be as good as that.

There are probably a lot more talented musicians out there - he started watching recordings under his violin teacher recommendation, and he has seen some of those soloists - but the only playing that truly gets shivers out of him is Brett’s. Eddy has no shame proclaiming from that moment on that Brett is his favorite musician in the world, and revels in the reaction he gets from him, not quite a blush, but embarrassment clear enough on his face, eyes shifty under the praise he keeps saying he doesn’t deserve.

So of course, since Eddy constantly craves approval from the people he admires, he starts putting so much effort in his violin playing that when Sarah asks him if she has a chance to see him in the next two months, she’s only half sarcastic.

“Wow! So good! Man, I’m impressed, I can’t believe you only started six months ago, I don’t think I played in tune for years. Just pay attention to your rhythm, don’t forget to practice with a metronome, but otherwise this was nice.”

Eddy thinks he’s glowing, Brett’s words are like honey in his throat, like a warm blanket around him, he’s probably beaming too brightly, because there’s an answering grin on his old friend’s lips, a bit amused, a bit fond. 

“I practiced so much,” he answers with pride laced in his voice.

It was all worth it, he thinks as he puts the violin down, vision blurring at the edges and he stumbles. He blinks around the haze surrounding him, Brett’s voice is coming from underwater, he can’t quite understand what he’s saying. When he blacks out, he’s still smiling.

He comes back to cold hands and hard fingertips on his skin.

There’s Brett face hovering above him, a worried frown etched on his features. Eddy is laying on the floor with a pillow under his head, and Brett has his phone pressed against his ear, a hand on his cheek.

“Are you okay?”

“I- yeah, I think I am. I just must have been exhausted.”

Brett nods.

“He’s woken up, he says he’s okay, just tired,” his friend says to the person on the other side of the phone. There’s some silence during which he listens attentively to whatever they’re telling him. “When was the last time you ate?” he asks Eddy.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Triple Zero. Answer the question.”

“Huh, I don’t know, I don’t remember, maybe yesterday?”

“Maybe yesterday,” Brett repeats dutifully, before nodding as the person from the emergency number is giving him instructions.

When he finally hangs up, the scowl he has as he glares at him is so deep, Eddy is actually a little scared.

“You!”

“I?” he gulps.

“You need to chill, dude! I’m proud of the progress you’ve made on the violin, but you’ve got to take care of yourself! You can’t- you can’t just pass out on me like that!” his Australian accent gets thicker the angrier he is and Eddy thinks there is something wrong with him for finding it hot. He’s never found Sarah’s accent hot. “Seriously, sleeping and eating isn’t fucking optional, I’ve been so worried.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, I’ll order us some food, and I’ll only leave when I know you’ve eaten, and you’re in bed. I don’t trust you with yourself.”

“Brett,” Eddy’s voice is still a bit sluggish. “You can’t do that, you told me you had to practice for your Tchaikovsky.”

“I can practice here, I’ve got my violin, that’s all I need. And I warn you Eddy, if I ever catch you passing out once again, I’ll never give you another lesson. Ever.”

The threat is oddly effective, and Eddy finds himself nodding before he can fully process it. 

The delivery comes in with plastic forks included, and Eddy struggles with it for about ten minutes before giving up and fetching chopsticks from a drawer. There’s not enough place on Eddy’s desk for the both of them, so they sit on the floor and share the food, talking and laughing, and Eddy can’t believe he could have had that for seven years straight if he had just fought his shyness enough to ask Brett to be his friend, when they sat on the second row, chairs in the left facing the blackboard.

Later on, he snuggles under the cover, arms wrapped around his plushies, unafraid of looking like a big baby, because Brett’s never given a shit about that, and he smiles as he hears him repeat the same bar for the seventh time in a row, mumbling to himself and tapping the rhythm with his feet. He falls asleep to a hazy realization that he will forget the morning after.

This is how he started really, really liking Brett.

*

This is how it started for Brett:

He will admit it, he’s a little bit jealous.

If you take violin playing from him, he isn’t really good at anything. He’s probably dyslexic with how much his spelling sucks, and math tutoring definitely never helped him get better at maths. He doesn’t really cook, has no artistic talents other than music, doesn’t read a lot and, apart from some running, never engages in any strenuous physical activity.

Eddy though. Eddy’s different.

He can speak Japanese, draw some really cute mangas, read everything from science manuals to psychology books, exercise every morning, play the violin, probably has perfect pitch, even knows some piano thanks to his sister, and he still manages on top of that to look cute, have the personality of a labrador and the nicest smile. The array of his skills seems to never stop expanding, and Brett feels permanently undeserving of Eddy’s admiration when the guy doesn’t realize how much he’s worth himself.

He has tried to argue that Eddy didn’t need to pay him anymore, it felt weird, getting money from someone he has met at fourteen, but Eddy was adamant about it, so Brett just uses the pay to buy one liter bubble teas for the both of them, from the shop on the other side of the bridge. He can feel some part of him soften the more time he spends with Eddy, insides gooey whenever his violin student asks something of him, and Brett tries to pretend to be annoyed, but never refuses him anything, and it’s honestly starting to be ridiculous how weak he is.

Brett’s fist is raised, ready to knock on the door he became so familiar with over the past months. Happy feelings bubbling in his chest because he never gets tired of seeing Eddy. He’s not even here because of a lesson. He’s here because he wants to, because he just finished an exam and he thinks he did really well, and he wants to share the joy. 

He could have partied with his friends from uni. Hyung and Shaun would have been glad to, but there is something special about the time he’s spending with Eddy, he doesn’t want to delve too deep in those thoughts, he just enjoys the rush of happiness and the easy comfort they have, and he thinks maybe this is what it would feel like, to have a best friend.

But the door bangs open, and a girl gets out of the apartement, she looks a mix between pissed, sad and relieved, but then she sees him and throws her hands up in the air.

“Of course  _ you _ ’re here!” she huffs and goes down the stairs without a single look back.

Brett has only seen Sarah four times in the eight months he has been teaching Eddy, and he’s honestly impressed they even stayed together for this long with how busy his friend constantly is.

He hears sniffles from inside, and he can feel his heart breaking as he peaks inside Eddy’s place, all the good mood from nailing his exam vanishing.

“Hey, mate, you okay?”

Eddy is rolled up on his bed, arms wound around his knees, and tears are streaming down his face.

“Huh. Not really.”

“Oh, Eddy.”

He closes the door behind him and sits on the bed next to him, arms sneaking around his shoulder to take him in a loose embrace.

“If you wanna talk I’m here. If you don’t, we can just do something else, d’you want to try bowing my violin while I do the left hand?”

Eddy shrugs but wraps himself around Brett, snuggling more into him.

“There’s not much to say. She broke up with me. I should have seen it coming.”

“She doesn’t deserve you, hey. Put a viola on her doorstep on her birthday.”

“No, I was the one not deserving her. Honestly I was the worst boyfriend, it’s impossible to maintain a relationship going with how hectic my life is.”

Brett can’t really argue with that, so he just rubs his friend’s back.

“Can you play something for me?” Eddy mumbles in his neck.

Brett’s body is moving before his brain even processes the request. When he said he was whipped, it wasn’t an understatement. He can’t bring himself to regret it when his friend chuckles between sniffs.

“Wait, not right now, and not here. I don’t want to stay stuck in my apartment, it sucks anyway, it’s the worst place to have a broken heart.”

Brett quickly passes their options in his head, he doesn’t think Eddy wants to be in a public place, they already spend most of their lives inside Griffith and he lives in a dorm, so there’s really only one possibility in his mind and the words are out of his mouth before his brain catches up.

“Do you want to go to my parent’s place?”

He really should start getting into the habit of thinking before he speaks.

At least his friend laughs and hugs him again, nuzzling into his hair.

“Hey, take me out on a date before introducing me to your parents.”

“My parents already know you, moron.”

Eddy laughs again, and Brett’s heart squeezes with a lot of things he can’t name, but he dearly, dearly wants to take care of this man. Would probably do anything for him.

This is how he started really, really liking Eddy.

*

This brings us back here. To this bubble tea shop, almost a year after they met up for their first violin lesson together. 

It has been a fact that they have been really, really liking each other for some time now, but Brett was too obtuse to have the realization before, and Eddy hasn’t allowed himself to ponder on it. It is hard to hold them responsible though, they are both busy, and feelings are complicated matters, every time someone thinks they get it, it unravels under their fingers. None of this changes the fact that repressed feelings have been going on for a while, and this might explain what follows. It feels very sudden, for the both of them, but if the story of their encounters had been put on paper, anyone reading would have seen it coming from the first smile. 

They stare at each other, there is the menace of separation above their head, once again, but the knowledge, warm in their guts that they’re meant to be in each other’s lives.

So Brett decides he won’t let coincidences rule over their meetings, and Eddy just wants to listen to Brett talking or playing forever.

“I really, really like you,” one of them says, it doesn’t really matter who.

“I really, really like you too,” the other answers.

But in the same way they haven’t realized this affection they have for the other has been there for longer than they thought, they don’t know  _ ‘like’ _ has already started morphing into something else.

So Brett doesn’t grasp what’s happening until it already happened, and Eddy’s lungs have stopped working, breath stuck somewhere with the next beat of his heart, as Brett grabs his face and kisses him with everything he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triple Zero (000) is Australia’s emergency number, like the American 911.
> 
> Thank you for reading :D please leave a kudo or a comment if you enjoy this, I tried to be funny and interesting, but I still feel like I blindly progress through this. If worst comes to worst, this’ll just flop, but hey, at least I would have tried some different narrative style :)


	3. How they love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The perfect moment won’t come up, but in the end it doesn’t really matter, this moment was just part of all the other moments of their life together, not really a beginning or an end, just the continuation of how they love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last installment of this very short fic :)
> 
> Thank you so much Ria for Beta reading this so fast, you didn’t have to <3 (I’m a tiny little bit dyslexic, and it’s slightly worse in English than in French, so she helps me out so much!)

## How they love

Brett has stopped teaching. There are a few reasons for that.

The first one is the most obvious one; he doesn’t need the money anymore. The SSO is paying well, he has a nice apartment with the best view and can afford take-out and bubble tea every day.

The second one is pretty straightforward; he doesn’t have the time. His only free days are on Mondays and Tuesdays, and he uses them to practice or fly back to Brisbane, excitement simmering low in his stomach as he boards the plane.

The third one is harder to pinpoint, but it has to do with the fact that violin lessons gained a new meaning for him; he knows there is only one person he wants to see the progress of, living in the back of his mind since forever. And since the last time he gave lessons, it ended up with him kissing his student, he feels he kinda lost his right to teach.

He doesn’t regret it though, the kiss.

It was an impulsive decision, brought on by a rush of affection he maybe should have controlled, and Eddy blushed and backed off blabbering and flailing and flew out of the bubble tea shop, but Brett still doesn’t regret it.

They both apologized without saying for what or why, and never really talked about it, but since then, there has been a thickness between them, enhanced by the fact they only see each other twice a month. It is almost sticky, the way their gaze stays glued on the other, the way touches linger too long and their bodies turn to follow the other. He thinks maybe Eddy wants to kiss him too, but there’s something holding him back, and Brett doesn’t want to push him. This doesn’t stop tension from building every time they see each other, every time Eddy shows off a new piece or something he’s been working on.

Eddy never went to another teacher, and Brett suspects they share the same third reason.

*

He isn’t wrong.

*

“So? What do you think?” Eddy asks with excitement spilling from his lips, smiling already and Brett wants to protect it.

It is Monday evening and Brett flew from Sydney just this morning, he’s still tired and Eddy came back from the hospital where he’s interning with exhaustion painted on his face. This didn’t stop them from spending the evening together in Eddy’s apartment, the same one where all their lessons have happened before. This didn’t stop Eddy from showing off his work on the Allegro from the Bach double violin concerto, and he’s glowing, pride twinkling in his eyes at the good job he did.

Brett is sitting on his bed to listen to him, playing with the penguin plushie - Sibelius, they had named it one day, in between bursts of laughter - his fondness is leaking and there is nothing he can do to take it back. He doesn’t really care anyway, he kissed Eddy already, he told him he really, really liked him already, he has nothing more to hide, he will give it all away freely, no matter what he does or doesn’t have in return.

“I think we can play together.”

“Really? I’ve been waiting for that!”

“I know,” Brett chuckles, putting Sibelius back on the pillow. He opens his case and takes his violin out, tuning and going over a few scales to warm up. “Just keep in mind it really won’t be pretty at the beginning, ensemble playing takes practice, we’ll probably sound terrible the first few times.”

“I’m ready for it. I just really want to play with you.”

Brett’s heart skips a beat at how genuine Eddy sounds, and he wonders once more if he should kiss him again. Just to be sure he hasn’t dreamed the first time.

Since he doesn’t think he can, he does the next best thing and settles the violin under his chin, smirking up at Eddy as he delivers the first notes, sharp and clear despite the poor acoustics of the room. His friend fumbles with his bow as he tries to catch up to him, unprepared.

“Wait, wait, why are you going so fast? Go slower!” Eddy laughs.

“I thought you were ready for it.”

“I’ve listened to this piece on YouTube! You’re playing double the tempo, you bastard, there’s no way I can play it that fast,” Eddy gives up and lowers his bow, still grinning. “You’re messing with me.“

“I wouldn’t dare,” Brett replies, not stopping his playing, smirk growing as his fingers make a massacre of Bach, the piece losing all integrity as he goes faster and faster, hilarity bubbling as Eddy rolls his eyes at him.

He has to stop because they are both cracking up, and he can’t hold his violin steady anymore.

“Fuck you. You’re lucky you aren’t officially my teacher now, you would be fired for such an unprofessional attitude,” Eddy chortles.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already been much worse while you were still my student, like that time I’ve made you record a whole session and then told you I lost the video.”

_And that time I’ve kissed you,_ he doesn’t say. 

“Why did I even put up with you, hey,” Eddy tries for mean, but he’s beaming too much to be believable.

“Alright, let’s do it for real now, very slow. Even slower than what you do when you practice on your own, playing with someone when you aren’t used to it can mess you up.”

*

They do mess up.

*

It isn’t easy to practice a duet with someone when you only see them once every two weeks, so it takes months for them to actually have it down, and Brett has played this piece too many times to count now - the Bach double is an all time classic - but it feels different with Eddy.

They are at Brett’s parents house in Brisbane, because Eddy is sick of his tiny place, and when they hit all the right notes at the right time, and he sees Eddy sway with the music they make together, eyes closing as if he has done it all his life, he wonders how it would be to have this all his life, glances exchanged above their violin, leaving them with a smile as they go back to focus on the sound and pattern of their hands.

He has to bite his tongue around the words that want to spill. 

Brett doesn’t like to show it, but he is an emotion driven person. His feelings control him more than he controls them; they pull at him now, tugging his insides and he doesn’t want to let them win. Because Eddy and him live so far away from each other, because Eddy didn’t kiss back that one time, and Brett is afraid it might hurt more if he doesn’t resist. 

Still, he loses.

This is how he thinks he starts loving Eddy.

*

Eddy is different. Eddy is slower with his feelings, he needs to analyze them and internalize them, he needs to be sure; to know where this is going. 

He is sensitive, but his reason controls his actions, and reason has his heart under a secure hold, cradling and protecting the sensitive thing. 

He isn’t blind, he knows what is happening with Brett, he understands why he wants to see him all the time, why whenever he takes his phone, his fingers open the app where they message each other on their own. He knows he really, really likes Brett, he knows he might want another kiss, might want to listen to him play for hours on end. He also suspects Brett might be in love with him.

This is a heavy word, _love_. But he had entire sleepless nights to ponder on it, to remember every charged look, every lingering touch, every word, to analyze and decipher the thickness between them.

He thinks he has it figured out now.

Some part of him regrets fleeing when Brett kissed him, but the rest is glad he did. Because distance doesn’t operate the same way between friends than it does between couples. If he had let himself go, melted in his feelings and kissed back, he has no idea where they would be right now.

Maybe exactly at the same place, but he wasn’t ready to risk it. A relationship is hard work, he saw it with Sarah. He cared so much about her, but it just didn’t work out. There is no way he wants to look back years later and say about Brett _it just didn’t work out_. He wants to have him in his life, he wants to keep him close like he hadn’t been able to when they were teenagers and lost sight of each other. He wants to put every factor in their favor, if they ever start something together. And a nine hundred kilometer gap and busy schedules aren’t the best things to carry in a fresh relationship.

He may be overthinking this, but overthinking is his default mode by now, it isn’t as if he has control over the way his brain keeps him awake in the dead of the night. He’s pretty sure Brett isn’t weighed down by those considerations. He’s pretty sure Brett is content to love him and doesn’t understand why Eddy is answering touches and stares, but not the unvoiced offer to be with him.

*

He isn’t wrong.

*

“Is it the last box?” Brett leans against the door, pulling up the collar of his shirt to wipe off the sweat of his forehead. 

“I think so yeah, I thought I didn’t have much, but damn, moving out makes you realize you own way more junk than you believed.”

The sun is beating over Sydney’s streets, and the Australian summer is out to choke any comfort off the poor sods unfortunate enough to be outside. It shows no mercy on the two young men moving in together, frying their skulls under the black hair and draining every last drop of water from their body.

“Dude, I think we deserve a bubble tea or fifty after that,” Brett sighs, glaring back at the sun taunting them from his apartment window. 

“Oh yes. But we order in, no way I’m getting back out in this heat.”

“Okay, go take the shower first if you like, I’ll order food while I’m at it, Thai or Japanese?” he offers with a little smile and Eddy swallows around the impulse to kiss it.

They have been more and more frequent lately, those urges, since he applied to Sydney Hospital for his postgraduate internship. He hadn’t told Brett immediately, not wanting to raise his hopes up before being sure he was accepted, but the knowledge had simmered inside him, making him restless and giddy every time he texted Brett, thinking maybe, _maybe, hopefully,_ they would be in the same city soon.

The fresh water falls on his skin, draining the sweat away, and he smiles under the stream.

He was here, in this apartment, playing Smash Bros with Brett on a lazy holiday afternoon when he received the email from the hospital with the confirmation. _Stay here,_ his friend just said, trying to hide the hopefulness in his voice, _it’s gonna be easier than trying to find a place on your own. I’ve got a spare bedroom, the view is nice, there’s a bubble tea shop nearby,_ he kept on adding arguments, as if Eddy really needed more convincing.

So they live together now, from this day on. Brett’s place is cluttered with boxes full of his belongings, and he should probably start to call it _their_ place, but it still feels a bit alien, to think that when he wakes up tomorrow, he’ll see Brett in the morning and have breakfast with him. That every day of this year, when he gets back from the hospitals in the evenings, they’ll order food if they’re lazy, or Brett will cook something and they’ll eat while watching Netflix. That on the weekends he can go see Brett perform with his orchestra, that he’ll show him his progress daily, that they’ll play duets together if they have some time; they’ll have a life together, and it seems crazy when they’ve spent most of the previous year apart. The worst is, in all that time, Eddy can’t believe he never managed to forget what Brett’s lips felt like.

There is a new fear now, at the bottom of his stomach, because Eddy is not able to enjoy any kind of situation without immediately worrying about everything that could go wrong. So part of him wonders if this cohabitation is a complete mistake, if they are blinded by their feelings for each other and not thinking this through. They get along, but living together is another matter entirely. He wants to kiss Brett pretty much every time he sees him now, wants to spill his adoration free, wants to acknowledge the stares he can feel burning at the back of his neck, but he’s scared it will all go wrong if they indulge in it right now, still under the rush of the other’s constant presence, and that they’ll get tired of each other after a few months. 

So he still wants to wait. 

*

What Eddy doesn’t see is that Brett‘s hands twitch whenever Eddy is too close, and his tongue licks his lips whenever his eyes stray on him for too long, and he would do anything for Eddy, but after months of living together his patience is stretching thin.

*

“Bro? What are you doing up? It’s three in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Brett rubs his eyes behind his glasses, his hair is a bird’s nest and his pyjamas are too big for him and pool around his ankles.

“What are _you_ doing up?” Eddy throws back from his spot on the couch.

“I was just gonna go pee and get a glass of water. Wasn’t expecting to see you there.”

“The view is nice, hey. Better than staying holed up in my room when I know I won’t sleep anyway.”

“Dude. Don’t you have to wake up at like, six tomorrow?”

Eddy shrugs and spies on Brett’s slightly blurry shape rolling his eyes and padding to the bathroom. He hears him wash his hands, grumble to himself, the tap of the kitchen as Brett pours himself a glass of water, then, unexpectedly, the kettle being turned on. Eddy keeps his eyes on the reflection of the Opera House illuminating the water, and only turns away from it when he feels Brett settles beside him. He has a mug of herbal tea in each hand, and in the lights of the night, he looks like a tired baby sloth. 

“What’re you doing? You’ve got rehearsal tomorrow.”

“I’m fatigue resistant.”

“Give me your power, I need it,” Eddy sighs and accepts the beverage, it’s hot under his fingers. His eyelids close as he throws his head back on the couch. “We should swap schedules.”

Brett chuckles and Eddy can’t fight back the smile that climbs on his lips when he feels his warmth seeps into his side. 

“Have you tried to listen to some meditation app, or like, soothing rain sounds?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t always work, when my brain decides it won’t stop thinking, there’s nothing I can do but wait until I’m exhausted enough to pass out.”

“Watching you pass out once has traumatized me enough,” Brett sips his tea and hums. His voice is nice and Eddy wouldn’t mind falling asleep to him talking.

“Sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to apologize, hey. If you need me I’ll be there for you.”

Eddy’s heart thumps a bit harder in his chest, affection and gratefulness coursing through his veins, his eyes open and there’s this small grin on Brett’s lips that makes him melt.

His hand let go of the mug to find Brett’s fingers in the dark, squeezing them the same way his lungs are constricted by the feeling overwhelming him.

“Thanks.”

“Sure,” Brett beams a bit brighter.

Then holding his hand is not enough, Eddy puts both of their cups of tea down on the coffee table, and Brett’s fingers go lax, letting Eddy do whatever he pleases and it makes the pang in his chest press harder against his lungs. He let his body fold on Brett, arms coming around his shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you,” he repeats, drowning in the hug, not knowing why there is a knot in his throat, this is probably exhaustion heightening his sensitivity, but some part of him almost wants to cry in the relief of having a Brett Yang in his life.

“What for?” the other man chuckles with some confusion, but it doesn’t stop him from running a hand through Eddy’s hair, bringing him closer to him. Brett’s love and comfort come free of charge and Eddy doesn’t know what he ever did to deserve this, but this is the best thing that ever happened to him. 

He doesn’t answer, he knows now. He knows there is no reason to be afraid of this, he knows his heart will be well taken care of, so the hold reason has on it relaxes. His feelings and his mind are perfectly aligned, for once. 

This is how he thinks he starts loving Brett.

*

By following this narration, any discerning reader knows what is going to happen now, the structure of this story doesn’t really leave a place to the imagination. This is no surprise for anybody, when, as a matter of fact, this isn’t how they start loving.

This is how they really love:

They were already in love when, in the mornings, they went to the coffee shop a few blocks away from their apartment.

They were already in love when they moved in together.

They were already in love when they texted in the middle of the night, nine hundred kilometers between their smiles.

They were already in love when they played together.

They were already in love when they shared bubble tea in the shop across from the conservatorium.

They were already in love when they laughed in Eddy’s crappy old apartment, overcome by exhaustion.

They were already in love when Eddy opened the door for Brett on that first lesson.

They were already in love when they were only a shape in the corner of each other’s eyes.

They were already in love, when Brett was fourteen, Eddy was thirteen, and they sat side by side, on the left of the math tutoring classroom.

Every time they thought they were right, every time we thought they were wrong, they were slowly walking toward this path. Every line this narration has taken is how they meet, how they like, how they love, it is one and the same, from the first moment they spoke to the last second of them living together.

*

It has been mentioned that Brett’s patience is wearing thin. While Eddy was busy having existential crisis after existential crisis, he has been biding his time, trying not to jump his friend and now roommate, because he doesn’t know for how many years he might have loved him, or really really liked him, but he feels ready to make a lot of impulsive decisions as of right now.

Having Eddy curled up around him whispering _‘thank you’_ s against the skin of his neck is honestly not helping. He wants him so much it hurts, slashing through his tiredness and he remembers the boy with a mullet snickering beside him, the med student leaning against the wall of the conservatorium, the violin adult beginner focusing on each note with his tongue peeking out; the one who has lived in his mind for so long and now lives with him in their shared apartment, lives in his arms and his soul. 

“Please don’t run away,” he whispers, hand resting against Eddy’s cheek to raise his head up and look at him in the eyes. 

And Brett kisses him again, for the second time in a year and a half and he doesn’t even know how he held off so long, his hand starts shaking and there is not enough oxygen going to his brain. He’s so slow, so careful, his lips barely grazing Eddy’s as he pecks at them in tentative touches, because if Eddy gets away from him now, he knows he will shatter - he loves too much.

He stops for a second and tries to gauge Eddy’s answer, tries to gather a hint and Eddy just looks at him with the nicest smile he has ever seen on anyone.

“Where would I run away to? This is our home.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

*

Eddy is worried, often, about a lot of things. About his patients, about his career, about his relatives, about his slow progress on the violin, about not being able to fall asleep until at least two in the morning, about the world and the state it is in.

But there is this thing he _isn’t_ worried about.

Brett finishes the last chord with a flourish, arm raised high and lips pulled into a smirk that morphs into a genuine smile when Eddy claps and cheers with the hype of ten people, even though it’s only the two of them in their living room.

“So good! Soloist Brett on the Tchaikovsky violin concerto, ladies and gentlemen!” he announces, even if the only ones listening are the potted plant and the neighbors’ cat that keeps visiting their apartment.

“Nah, nah. I played this third movement waaaay too fast, it definitely could be better.”

“I guess you’ll just have to play it for me again tomorrow then,” Eddy answers with a cheeky smile that widens when Brett bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, no. Give me at least some time to rest.”

“What? You think we took vacations together so I would let you rest? Who do you think I am? A considerate boyfriend?”

“Yeah, my mistake; I should have known.”

Eddy gets up and gently takes the violin from Brett’s hands, still marveling at the way the other let him divest him of his instrument like this, the complete trust when he surrenders his violin to Eddy’s care. 

“You’re right though,” he says as he closes the violin case. “You do deserve a break, come take a nap with me.”

He grabs Brett’s hand and drags him to the couch, relishing in the smile he gets in return.

“I love you,” he mumbles in his boyfriend’s hair as they snuggle on the couch, heart full with his presence.

“I love you too,” Brett answers with evidence in his tone.

And this is the one thing he isn’t worried about, the certainty that this will be the answer he’ll always have. 

*

Brett isn’t someone who plans things out. He likes to go with the flow, to enjoy the company of the people he’s with without afterthoughts, to make the most of any situation and just charge on if he has an idea.

He huffs in amusement as Eddy starts snoring in less than ten minutes, but doesn’t move from his spot, just grabs his phone to scroll through social media, trying not to disturb his boyfriend as he does so. He has never been able to fall asleep in the middle of the day in a matter of seconds like him, and naps are almost a foreign concept, most of the time he ends up staring at the ceiling, slowly blinking with an empty mind, without actually falling into slumber. But this doesn’t stop him from enjoying those nap times with Eddy, doing nothing but cuddling into his warmth and breathing his smell, tracing the tired lines of his face.

They have a flight early tomorrow, for their vacations in Europe, and they don’t really have anything planned out, just looking forward to walking around, trying a lot of good food and having time to themselves.

He kisses his jaw, letting his lips stay there for longer than necessary, grinning when Eddy mumbles something in his sleep and tightens his embrace.

So, Brett doesn’t plan things out, but as his hand trails down his boyfriend’s chest, he is trying to think of possibilities, to come up with scenarios, hoping the right moment will come up, but if it doesn’t, he’ll have to create it himself, for the ring nestled in his violin case.

*

The perfect moment won’t come up, and Brett will flounder and fumble, Eddy will laugh and his ‘ _yes_ ’ will be drowned in chuckles, but in the end it doesn’t really matter, this moment was just part of all the other moments of their life together, not really a beginning or an end, just the continuation of how they love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this has been an experiment, it started as me trying to be funny, but my goals shifter halfway through. I’m not expecting a lot from this, and I was really disappointed with my chapter when I finished it yesterday (Because the structure did,’t follow through, and I didn’t manage to deliver the effect I wanted) and I rewrote the end multiple times, but I’ve made peace with it, I kind of like this deformed brain child now. Thank you to everyone who liked this :) it’s very late, so I’m gonna go sleep now, might edit those author notes when my brain is clearer tomorrow.
> 
> See you for MeloMania’s next chapter!


End file.
